


Day 14: Gift Wrapping

by MoMoMomma



Series: 25 Drabbles of Christmas [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2821928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His father is horrible at wrapping presents. Stiles has known this since he was 8--also the year he realized Santa wasn’t real--when he followed the sound of vicious cursing downstairs only to find his dad surrounded by a whole roll of ruined wrapping paper, glaring at a basketball like it had punched him in the mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 14: Gift Wrapping

His father is horrible at wrapping presents. Stiles has known this since he was 8--also the year he realized Santa wasn’t real--when he followed the sound of vicious cursing downstairs only to find his dad surrounded by a whole roll of ruined wrapping paper, glaring at a basketball like it had punched him in the mouth. Birthdays and Christmas usually consisted of numerous boxes and bags littering the room, because John could wrap square and rectangle things just fine. But anything more oddly shaped either got wrapped by Stiles or shoved into a container that could be wrapped.

Which is why the...very obvious present sitting in the living room near the tree causes him to blink furiously.

“That...is a giant dick.”

“Watch your mouth.” Stiles whips around at his dad’s even tone, gesturing to the giant phallic wrapped object furiously.

“There is literally a giant penis shaped present in our living room and you’re concerned with my _mouth_?”

“I’m usually concerned with your mouth.” John gives him a wicked grin over the rim of his coffee cup, heating Stiles’ blood even as his brain keeps trying to pull his attention back to the present.

“This can only mean one thing.” John barely gets time to put the cup down before he’s got a lap full of Stiles, hands drifting down to his usual place on Stiles’ hips to hold him steady.

An arched brow is all Stiles gets in form of a question and he grins, leaning down to bite gently at his dad’s earlobe--a move that never fails to drive his daddy crazy.

“It’s so big, Daddy. I’m gonna need to be stretched to take that monster. We should get started on that. Only two more days left.”

John dives into the task with gusto, Stiles will give him that much. They haven’t had so much sex since the very beginning of their relationship. By the time Christmas morning has rolled around Stiles can barely sit upright, sore and pliant from being fucked over, against, and on every surface in the house that would hold weight. He’s still sporting beard burn on his cheeks from early morning stretching sessions and, if he shifts just right, he can feel the slick drip of the load his Daddy pumped into him before he was fully awake this morning.

But, of course, his father is evil and makes Stiles open every other present before even reaching for the phallic one. By the time he gets his hands on it he’s practically vibrating with excitement, thinking of the delicious burn and stretch such a thing will provide. How he’ll be so open after this his Daddy will easily be able to get a fist--maybe even _two_ \--inside his hungry little hole.

Unfortunately, while his Daddy is an amazing person and the best thing that’s ever happened to Stiles, he certainly didn’t inherit his asshole tendencies from his mom.

“A new crosse. And helmet. And pads.”

“Gotta keep my boy safe.”

“You’re a horrible human being.”

John’s eyes practically shine as he shrugs and leans back onto his palms, winking at Stiles’ no doubt flustered face.

“Check behind the tree.”

Stiles practically lunges for the thing, pushing the tree skirt out of the way and picking up a package that had been buried underneath. He’s not delicate about ripping the paper off and he only gets a strip off before he sees what it is.

At which point he has to pause because _fuck_ , he’s nearly certain blood shouldn’t re-route that quickly.

“You did say you were curious about knots.” His dad says conversationally, plucking the box from lax hands and unwrapping it.

“I love you.”

“You’d better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com)!


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